


Carry On Countdown: December 7. Angst.

by AoiHerondale, black_tea_blue_pens



Series: Carry On Countdown [3]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Not actual suicide, Suicide Notes, but it's mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8779741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AoiHerondale/pseuds/AoiHerondale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea_blue_pens/pseuds/black_tea_blue_pens
Summary: SORA DESU! We (@AoiHerondale and I) wrote this one for the Carry On countdown in tumblr. And I´m so proud of it. (Seriously, I love it. I´m dying for working again with her). Please tell me what you think about it: if you liked it, or if there is any mistake. Thank you for reading!





	

**BAZ**

He found me. He found me and there is no way I can deny it. Not with a dry rat in my right hand. Not with the blood stains around me. Not with my fangs out.

He turns around and runs. I should leave him be.

I do not. I chase after him instead. He runs through the empty hallways, upstairs and into our room. Of course. He is supposed to be safe there. I am sure we have woke someone up.

I close the door behind me.

“Get out, Baz”. There is fear in his eyes. He is not disgusted, or angry. He is just scared. The worst part is, I am too.

“It´s our room, Snow”. Is this really the best moment to be sassy?

I take a step towards him.

Another mistake.

“Stop it”.

“I thought you knew. Weren't you ranting about me being a plotting monster with Bunce?”

“Penny said…”

I think I have just rolled my eyes.

“I couldn't care less about what Bunce thinks”.

His expression will not change, and I do not know what to do.

I want to to run towards him and tell him I hid who (or should I say what) I am out of shame.

I want to beg him to understand that I am the same person I was a few hours ago. But I am not even a person.

That is the problem.

I feel like crying. He is acting just like I was afraid he would. Just like my father did. Just like my mother would have if she had lived.

Great, just great. Now I am crying. Just what I needed. And I cannot even tell what he is thinking anymore.

"Wha- why are you crying?" Snow sounds confused, like a little boy that does not understand why he is getting scolded.

I laugh at myself. I must look so pathetic.

But of course, because he is Simon Snow he does not understand why I am laughing.

“Stop it”.

“Stop what, Snow?” I am trying to decide between laugh and tears. I want… I do not even know what I want. Dying right now would do.

“Stop laughing. It's confusing”.

“So what”.

I take another step forward.

“I told you to stop it!” I must still have blood stains. Why do I even care about that now? Right, Simon is scared. The same way my mother would be. No. Simon is worse. Simon can, and will, explode at any moment, and I am flammable. That would be convenient: all my problems would be solved and I would not need to kill him myself.

“Don't tell me what to do, Snow”. Keep calm, Baz. We are a meter apart, but he is acting as if I was about to dive my fangs in him. That is something that has happened, actually. In my nightmares.

“Is this why you approached Agatha? You wanted to suck her blood, right?”

So that is what he was worried about.

“Don't you think if I wanted to suck her blood I would have done it a long time ago?”

“You want to kill me. And you didn't do it yet”.

“That's…” a lie. That is what I should say. That should be the truth.

It is not.

Because I do not want to kill Simon Snow. But I am going to do it anyway.

Tears are still flowing, but I am still smiling. It´s a sick irony, just like my life. Just like sharing room with Simon. Just like falling in love with him.

And I am tired, so tired…

Wait.

“Snow, the Humdrum´s here”.

“What?”

“Don't you feel it? The magic is…”

“It´s not here, Baz. Don't try to distract me!”

“Snow, I'm…”

It is not the Humdrum. It is Simon. Simon is making the magic disappear.

I must get out of here. No. It is the same outside.

“SNOW, STOP IT!”

“Stop what?”

“I don't know, whatever you're doing”.

I do not understand what he is doing, but I can feel the magic being drained from the air.

"Snow, I'm serious".

"I don't know what you're talking about, stop trying to distract me!"

As he grows more and more angry, the magic goes away faster.

No, I realize, it is not disappearing. It is going towards him, as if he were absorbing the air around him, as if magic was drawn to him the same way I am.

I grab his arm, trying to make him stop. I should have not.

He tries to pull out. He cannot. At least the magic in the air is safe now. Because he is draining mine. And it is painful.

“Snow, look at me”. At least he does that much. “Simon, I need you to stop. It hurts. I…”

“What am I supposed to be doing?” “You don't realize? You´re draining my magic”. I am openly crying now. It hurts too much. I have fallen on my knees at some point, but I cannot release him. I just can´t.

I think I am dying. For real. And it is way more painful than I ever imagined.

I look up at his face, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something but did not know what.

I look into his eyes and feel strangely calm about the fact that I am going to die. Maybe it is because it means everything is going to end.

Aunt Fiona´s speeches about how I must kill him.

Father's disappointed looks.

Sneaking out to drink blood.

The guilt.

It will be over.

I will not have to kill Simon.

I will not have to live knowing I killed Simon.

I will not have to live knowing I killed the boy I love.

I will be dead.

Not half dead.

Completely dead. 

Maybe I will even see my mother, and listen to her voice again. I have missed her.

Maybe I will be able to visit Simon next time the veil opens up.

“Baz, I´m sorry. I'm so sorry, I… I don't know how to stop this”.

So now we are both crying and I am dying and Simon is imploding and I need to say goodbye. I need to tell him everything before it is too late.

“Simon, I…” I do not even know what to begin with. “Simon, the box”. 

“What?”

“Simon, the box with the Italian shoes…” he understood. He is searching under my bed.

 

**SIMON**

I reach under the bed with Baz still grabbing my arm and take out the box. I still don't know what´s happening, I feel nothing. But he seems to be falling apart. His way too elegant for anyone but him Italian shoes are inside, along with an envelope that has the Pitch emblem printed.

I´m about to open it but Baz stops me. He´s sitting on the floor, and pressure on my arm is softer. He's paler than usual, and that is weird because he´s a… A vampire. I think he has no strength left. And it´s so sad watching him this way…

“Simon, I… I´m sorry. I love you Simon”. 

Did he just say that?

He has released my arm.

And has fallen down on the floor.

Baz is dead.

I feel renewed, and that's when I realize what Baz meant. I've sucked all of his magic. The only monster here is me. It shouldn't have happened this way. It should have been fair. Or have not been at all. Baz should be alive. As a vampire. Or as a boy. I don't care. He should be alive.

I wait for the anathema to make effect, but it just doesn´t. Maybe because it was not my intention. Or was it? I don't know anymore. I see the envelope in my hand and open it. Inside, there are three pages full of Baz´s elegant handwriting.

 

_ Dear Father: _

 

_ It has been twelve years since the day I was supposed to die. Ever since then, things have just gotten worse day by day and I just cannot stand it anymore. _

_ I miss her. I miss my mother. My last memory of her is her voice shouting curses at the vampires. _

_ I remember people scrambling. I remember watching one of the vampires light up like a Roman candle. I remember a flash of agony before the man holding me sank his teeth into my neck. _

_ And then pain. _

_ And then nothing… _

_ I must have passed out. _

_ When I woke up, I was in my mother's  quarters, and Father and Fiona were casting healing spells over me. _

_ When I woke up, my mother was gone. _

_ When I woke up, I was a vampire. _

_ I hated myself for what I was. _

_ I was a monster. A vampire. Like the ones who killed her. The ones who she despised.  _

_ I lied awake at night, wondering what she would have done if she had lived. Would she have loved me nonetheless? Would she have abandoned me? Would she… would she have killed me? I used to hug my pillow, crying until I fell asleep, exhausted. I needed you to hug me, to comfort me. But you were not there. _

_ As I child, I learned to get used to you ignoring me. To you being ashamed of me. Up until I was thirteen I justified your behavior to myself with stupid, hard to believe excuses. _

_ When I was eleven, I was admitted into Watford. I should not have. My mother would have never let a vampire in the school. _

_ Being a vampire is death. It is death, because you need to eat life to stay alive. It is death, because when you are hungry, you cannot stop thinking about eating other people. It is death, because you look at other people, living people, and they seem really far away. They seem like something else. The way that birds seem like something else. And they are full of something you do not have. You could take it from them, but it still will not be yours. They are full, and… you are hungry. You are not alive. You are just hungry. _

_ And then there is Snow. Simon Snow. My roommate and my nemesis. Simon, who is so full of life and magic. How am I supposed to take that from him? Simon Snow. My first love, my enemy. _

_ When I came to Watford, I knew I had to hide the fact that I am a vampire. I knew Simon Snow would be there, and I also knew he would be my enemy. Why? Because Fiona said so. Because you said so. Because The Mage, even though I was only eleven, already thought of me as a threat. Because everyone around me said so. When the crucible drew us together, I could not believe my luck. Killing him would be way easier than expected. _

_ It was not. _

_ The roommate anathema made it impossible, and I hated it. I hated him. I hated how he was completely incapable of controlling his own magic. How he seemed a little stupid. How he followed the Mage everywhere. But the worst part is that he was alive, and I was not, and that made me jealous. _

_ Now it has changed. At some point, I began liking him. I didn't care that he didn't use magic to tie his shoes, or that he always dressed with the school uniform, or that he suddenly appeared in our room covered by blood and mumbling explanations. _

_ He should not be my roommate, he deserves someone better. He deserves a normal guy to hang out with and organize parties; not a vampire who was taught to hate him since he was little. Not someone whose family wants him dead. Not someone who cannot even confess out of fear. Not someone who is going to kill him. _

_ I am going to kill him. I do not care if the Anathema fires me. I just hope this way you and Fiona will be proud for once. Because, Father, one of the most awful parts of being a vampire is that the Pitch mansion is not wide enough for me not to hear you and Daphne telling Mordelia to be careful. And that you are right, but it hurts. It hurts that you hate me for being a vampire. It hurts that you hate me for being homosexual. It hurts that you think of me as a monster. It hurts because I didn’t get to choose any of those things. It hurts that you seem incapable of helping me cope with all of this. _

_ But it does not matter anymore, because I am going to kill Simon. _

_ And then I will kill myself. _

  
_ Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. _

**Author's Note:**

> SORA DESU! We (@AoiHerondale and I) wrote this one for the Carry On countdown in tumblr. And I´m so proud of it. (Seriously, I love it. I´m dying for working again with her). Please tell me what you think about it: if you liked it, or if there is any mistake. Thank you for reading!


End file.
